The Lion and the Blue Beauty
by Ciralei
Summary: AU where Jaime and Brienne get their happily-ever-after.


"Mummy, Pappa, wake up!"

Brienne grumbled into the pillow as she felt the weight of her nine-year-old son Huxley bouncing into the large bed she shared with Jaime. Her groans were echoed by the golden-haired man to her right, who until very recently had been snoring with his arm draped protectively around her waist.

"Wake up! We have to go check the traps!" Huxley shouted, and proceeded to jump up and down, shaking the four-poster as he did so.

"I can take him," Jaime murmured, half asleep, into Brienne's thick, blonde hair. She had let it grow out to her shoulders since settling down in the modest fort of Rainwood. Just south of the island of Tarth, it was near enough to the Sapphire Isle to suit Brienne and far enough from Casterly Rock and King's Landing to suit Jamie. Not that she had much cause to visit her aging father, Lord Selwyn, as her life now consisted of little more than running the small household and raising her children.

"No," Brienne countered, rolling over, "You'll never find them in the woods. You would be out there until nightfall." She peeled open her eyelids to the pre-dawn gloom of the bedchamber. Staring down at her was the broad face of her son, which, like her own, featured a pale complexion, sprinkled heavily with freckles. His eyes were green, though, with a mischievous glint to them that Brienne saw so often in the eyes of his father.

Jaime offered a snort of laughter before sitting up in bed. "You hear that, Hux? Your mother doesn't think I can find her clever little traps. Doesn't she remember that I am still one of the best trackers in the Seven Kingdoms?" Despite his missing right hand, Jaime could still heave his son into his muscular arms, causing the boy to dissolve into a fit of giggles. "Now where is your sister?"

"Pappa," said a tiny voice from the doorway. Leila had always been a shy, quiet girl, even around her own family. Now she stood with one hand up to her face, her lips firmly planted around her thumb, and the other hand dragging a raggedy toy bear behind her. At the age of six, Brienne thought it was time for Leila to forgo her childish comforts in exchange for more useful tasks, but Jamie disagreed. "Oh, let her keep her things a while longer. She's growing up too quickly already. Besides, what's a maiden fair without her bear?" he had said with a wink.

"Good morning, my lady," he called to her now, shifting Huxley to the crook of his right elbow so he could extend his left hand to Leila. Without removing her thumb from her mouth, she ran to him and buried her face in his nightshirt. For a moment, her daughter's silken locks, looking like spun sunlight, reminded her strongly of Cersei Lannister, Jamie's estranged twin sister about whom they never spoke. Brienne knew most everything about Jamie's past, the one that had earned him the dishonoring titles of Kingslayer and . . . worse. But as soon as Leila turned her large, pale blue eyes to her mother's face, all that was forgotten.

"And good morning to you, too," Jaime whispered to Brienne, offering her a kiss on the cheek. As his golden whiskers brushed the sensitive skin there, Brienne could not help but blush in remembrance of some of his less-chaste kisses. After all, he was the reason she could no longer be called the Maid of Tarth, although certainly not Lady Lannister either. Although she and Jamie remained unmarried, they lived as husband and wife, preferring a quiet, peaceful existence in stark contrast to the circumstances under which they first met. Back then if anyone were to suggest that she would ever be mother to the children of Jaime Lannister, a man she had deemed lower than the dirt and blood that caked his clothes and face, she would have considered it a crueler jest than anything else she had ever bore in her entire life. And Brienne had been the object of some abhorrent jokes.

Yet here they were, about as happy as two people who survived the Great War of Westeros could be. Brienne sighed and heaved her large frame out of the bed. "Well, we can't very well go out in our nightclothes, now can we, Hux?" she said, to her son's squealed delight. He shot out of the chamber, calling over his shoulder about hoping to have caught a rabbit for stew.

Jaime rose too, to carry Leila back to her bedchamber. "Why don't you try to sleep for a little while longer? Then maybe you and I can go see Ser Podrick about a bow for you?" he soothed her. Unlike her brother, who grew frustrated when he could not hit the target and preferred instead to clap tourney swords with Ser Podrick, Leila showed great aptitude for archery even at such a young age. Both parents agreed that the children should be proficient in knightly skills should they ever need to defend themselves. Each child was required to do lessons with Podrick Payne, who was once a squire to Jaime's brother Tyrion and became a master-of-arms of sorts in the Rainwood after Jaime knighted him. Both parents knew that peace was precarious in Westeros, even with the strong young Dragon Queen sitting the Iron Throne.

Brienne dressed quickly in a simple tunic and leather vest, forgoing the gowns in her wardrobe for men's clothing, as was her custom. She pulled on well-worn leather boots and tightened a belt and scabbard around her waist. Oathkeeper, the sword Jaime had gifted to her all those years ago, was kept on the mantelpiece above the bedchamber's hearth. Although Brienne did not expect any trouble in the woods, she had encountered her fair enough share of bandits and renegades that she never wanted to be caught unprepared. She had Huxley carry a small dagger with him as well, and although she had taught him enough so that he wouldn't hurt himself with it, she knew he had many years of training to go before he would be able to use it properly against a foe.

As she was securing her hair back with a leather cord, Jaime entered the chamber and began to dress as well. "You can go back to sleep, too, you know," she told him. "It's early yet."

"I know," he replied. "I wanted to break my fast with you." He gave her one of his bright smiles that once made maidens swoon from here to Winterfell. But now the smile showed the crinkles of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, and the furrows of his forehead that marked him as a man who had seen and done too much for one lifetime.

They wandered down the narrow stone steps to the kitchen, warm already with the cooking fires the few servants had started. No sooner had they each poured themselves a mug of hot spiced wine when Huxley bounded down the steps, his undone doublet flapping in his wake.

"Come here, Huxley," Brienne said, a little sharper than she meant. The boy stood still just long enough for her to fasten his clothing and tousle his hair to show she wasn't truly scolding him. He snatched a slice of brown bread from the table and crammed it in his mouth.

"Are we taking the horses?" he asked, voice muffled by the food and lips spraying crumbs onto the kitchen floor. He swallowed the lump of bread without seeming to chew it and looked up at Brienne with shining eyes.

"Not today. Today we must walk through the trees in silence, lest we frighten the game. We must be like shadowcats," she teased.

"Shadowcats?" Huxley intoned, impressed. He dropped to his hands and knees and stalked behind one of the scullery maids, then snarled and attacked her skirts, making her shriek.

"Huxley!" Brienne chided, in earnest this time, but Jaime just let out a hearty laugh.

"Why don't you practice your pouncing out in the yard?" he suggested, then grabbed an apple out of a nearby basket and tossed it to his son, who caught it with a grin and disappeared out the swinging wooden door that led outside. "He has the ferocity of a lion," he added, before the corners of his mouth turned down and a slight shadow crossed his face.

"I think the sausages are ready," Brienne said, and they took their wine to the dining hall, followed by servants bearing the meat, bread, hard cheese, and basket of dried fruit and nuts. The hall was a bit drafty and empty with just the two of them next to each other at the high table, but the servants bustled over to the hearth and soon there was a crackling, orange glow to light the room. Knowing that Huxley would be anxious, Brienne ate quickly, nodding attentively as Jaime told her of the dream he had the last night.

"I was at a tourney, in a melee with all the Houses of the Seven Kingdoms," he explained. "Everyone was in full armor so I couldn't tell who anyone was. I fought them all with a dirk attached to my right arm and they fell when I struck them." When they left King's Landing Jaime had left his golden hand as well, trading it for one carved and polished from plain oak wood. Not so heavy and cumbersome, he had claimed, but Brienne thought it might be because he wanted no reminders of his time as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He continued, "As the knights hit the ground, they each burst into their House's sigil. The Greyjoy knight became a wet, slimy kraken and waved its tentacles in the air. Where the one from Highgarden fell, there appeared a bed of roses."

When they had finished eating, Brienne rose and leaned down, tentatively pressing her lips against Jaime's. More often than not, Jaime was the one to initiate any affection between them. "We'll be back soon," she assured him, before striding outside with her great long legs.

"Mummy, look at me!" Huxley called as she stepped out. He was crawling along a low wall as he imagined a shadowcat might, but instead of looking like a stealthy predator he looked rather clumsy and unbalanced. Indeed, as Brienne watched he tumbled down into a pile of straw near the stables. He leapt up and tried to act as if nothing was amiss. He had learned long ago that Brienne was not one to coddle him if he got hurt; her thought was instead that he would learn from the pain to be more careful and astute.

"Come now, Hux, or all the game will have escaped," Brienne called, and he scurried to her side, bits of straw hiding in his hair of the same color. She knew escape wasn't possible with the type of snares she set, but the prospect was enough to hurry Huxley's step. They set out together through the main gate, but turned soon from the road leading up to the fort in favor of a thin footpath that wound through the trees. Brienne knew these woods fairly well by now, and fell into a stride a bit slower than her usual pace so that her son could keep up. He would grow to be at least Jaime's or even her size, she knew, but for now his short legs tired easily. She could practically see his struggle to stay on the path with her lest he get lost, fighting the urge to explore the expanse of trees on either side of them, climbing the thick boughs or investigating the plants that carpeted the forest floor.

As they neared the first snare, Brienne motioned to Huxley to be as quiet as he could, and then crept forward with him close on her heels. Their efforts appeared to be for naught, though, as this trap was bare, as was the second and third they came upon in time. The boy kicked at a rock in defeat, disappointment plain on his face.

"Be patient," Brienne told him for the thousandth time in his life. "We still have a few more chances."

The fourth snare proved fruitful, and Huxley plucked delightedly at the fat hare that hung just above the ground. Leila was still young and gentle enough to be squeamish around dead animals, but Hux had been underfoot enough in the kitchens to have seen all kinds of creatures in every stage between the butcher's block and the supper table. Brienne showed him how to ensure the rabbit was dead before loosening it and putting it in a sack to carry home. Two more traps had also worked, though neither catch was as plump as the first, so Huxley marched with her back to the fort with his little chest puffed out in pride.

By the time they came back in sight of the humble stronghold, the sun was well up in the clear, cloudless sky. They heard Jaime calling to Ser Podrick, his deep voice floating over the keep's high walls.

"Come now, Ser Pod, you are being bested by a child! I should revoke your knighthood!"

As Brienne entered the yard she saw that several targets had been set up for an impromptu archery contest. Although Jamie had spent years mastering the sword with his left arm, a bow and arrow proved to require too much dexterity for a one-handed man. Instead, Podrick was called upon to demonstrate how to shoot with a longbow so that Leila might copy his example. Several arrows had fallen within the targets' circles, but the ones closest to the centers were noticeably shorter, having come from a smaller bow. Leila stood across the yard, brandishing her new weapon in place of the stuffed bear, wearing a linen dress that matched both the color of her eyes and the sky above. As she notched the last arrow, she concentrated with the intensity of a much older person as she eyed her target, and, with a small exhale, released and fired.

The arrow thudded into the mounted burlap, and Jaime stood up from the bench he had been sitting on, beaming at his daughter. She lowered her bow and gave him a shy smile as he strode over to gather her up in his arms. Brienne watched, and unbidden her eyes prickled for a moment as she witnessed the tender moment between two of the people she loved most. Not to be outshone, Huxley ran over to them, swinging the bag of his prizes to show his father.

Brienne rarely prayed, having suffered mightily at the will of the Seven in her lifetime. Yet now she offered up a silent thanks to the Warrior as the god to whom she had always felt nearest; the Father, for Jaime's sake; and now to the Mother, the role in life for which she felt the most in need of help. The hard winter had passed and again summer stretched before them, filled with possibilities. Later they would dine on fresh rabbit stew. When evening fell the children would be tucked soundly into their beds to dream of forest paths and gentle bears. And Jaime and Brienne would then hold each other, their bodies still muscled and strong from harder days, and sleep more peacefully than either of them ever had before.


End file.
